


The Sounds of Crazy

by lollzie



Series: Summer of Gotham [4]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Arkham Asylum, Gen, Gotham Season 2, Nightmares, Season 2, Summer of Gotham, SummerofGotham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 07:38:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15019838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lollzie/pseuds/lollzie
Summary: People used to believe that nightmares were evil spirits aiming to oppress them during their sleep. Ed may not be haunted by evil spirits but he still has his demons.





	The Sounds of Crazy

**Author's Note:**

> For the Summer of Gotham challenge. Week 4 - Nightmares

The sound of fists pounding against a wall. 

There’s a figure at the other end of the corridor, but it’s so poorly lit he struggles to tell just who it is. 

The scratching of nails across a window. 

He squints, but it does little to help. He takes a step forward, the sound echoing and bouncing off the walls, but the other person gives no indication they’ve heard him moving, not even jumping at the sudden sound. 

Muffled sobs from behind a door. 

“Hello?” Again, no reaction to his voice. He’s closer now, can tell whoever it is is a woman, her frame much slighter than his. 

A cry for help.

For a second there’s a shimmer of red hair. He feels his heart drop, a cold sweat making his hands clammy.

A manic laugh. 

He wants to stop and turn away, but now he’s started walking it it’s like he can’t stop. His pace quickening as the corridor stretches out in front of him. 

Buzzing of a taser.

He’s running now, the figure still turned away from him. But she’s getting closer, blouse half tucked out of her skirt in a way that she would never allow. 

Rattling of pills. 

He stops when there’s less than a foot of distance between them. It feels like he’s run a marathon, but his breathing is no more laboured than as if he took a leisurely stroll. 

A thud as a body hits the floor. 

“Is it really you?” he doesn’t know why he asks. He’ll always remember her, always be able to pick her out from the crowd. It’s always her anyway.

Pathetic whimpers. 

Finally she turns, and he wishes that she hadn’t. Her face is pale, black circles under her eyes. The pink lipstick she always wore not enough to hide the blue of her lips. But it’s the look in her eyes that’s the worse. 

Unintelligible mumbling. 

They’re empty and haunted, the light and innocent joy long since extinguished. Her red locks are tied up, making the mottled neck even more obvious to the eye, even despite the flickering lights from above. 

Rattle of cell keys. 

“Why?” she rasps, voice choking over the word “Why did you do this to me? What did I do? You’re a stalker. A sicko. A murderer. A psychopath.”

Slam of a door. 

She’s screaming now, repeating the same phrases again. Screaming her dying words, not quietening even as he tries to stop her, unflinching as he presses a hand against her mouth and the other against her neck in a sick sort of mirroring. 

Jaunty whistle. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never wanted to, I loved you,” he shouts over her words, his own having no effect.

Creak of a door. 

Her skin is getting paler, softening under his hands. He jumps away, but it’s too late. She’s still standing, but it’s like she’s rotting in front of his very eyes. Maggots crawling out of her mouth. Flies from her nose. The hatred in her eyes remain unchanging.

Drip from a pipe. 

“No, no, no,” he cries, but it’s to no use. “I didn’t want it to be this way, I never wanted this. Miss Kringle!” 

Scream. 

With a gasp Ed awakens, desperately trying to suck in air, heart thundering in his chest. His thin pyjamas are stuck to him he’s covered in so much sweat. It was just a dream, he tries to tell himself as he works to control his breathing, rubbing his hands across the thin, scratchy blanket in an attempt to remove the feeling of Kristen’s rotting flesh.   
But the nightmare is far from over. In fact, Ed doesn’t think it ever will be. All around him, the noises of Arkham Asylum echo around his cell, bouncing off the walls till it’s deafening. 

Pound.

Scratch. 

Sob.

Cry. 

Laugh.

Buzz.

Rattle. 

Thud.

Whimper. 

Mumble.

Slam. 

Whistle. 

Creak.

Drip.

Scream. 

Again and again. Round and round. Never-ending until it’s all Ed can hear, all he can focus on. He rolls himself into a ball on his bed, clutching his hands furiously to his ears but it’s no use. They’re all still there. But underneath it all, hidden between all the chaos is her quiet whisper. Somehow louder and more powerful than the rest combined. 

“How could you? I loved you. You’re a monster. You deserve to die here.”


End file.
